Ice
by his-little-troll
Summary: Kristoff hated the ice.
1. Chapter 1

Ice

**Just walk away those windows say; but I can't believe she's gone.**

He saw her turn. He knew where she was going. It was so like her. That didn't stop the pain. Anna. She yelled, her voice strong. She was confident in this. In dying. He watched as she turned to ice in front of him, solid in the seconds it took for the sword to swing down. The thud of the blade would never leave his ears as long as he lived. He prayed. He begged. The thin line crackling down her arm did not listen. The splintering of her chest did not care. She crumbled before his eyes. He felt like an intruder as Elsa knelt over her pieces.

Everything slowed down. Somehow he ended up on Sven's back. He was far gone before he realized he was crying. The tears were freezing to his cheeks in an ice storm. No howling wind whistled through his ears. No sound distracted him from the pain in his chest.

His eyelashes were heavy with ice, his hair already stiff and frozen. His face numbed. Sven was galloping, his hide frothing with sweat. Kristoff sensed fear in his reindeer. Sven knew what Kristoff had yet to acknowledge. So Sven was taking him to the trolls. Kristoff was going home.

They waited for him, Grand Pabbie's staff towering above the heads of the others. Bulda tried to comfort him. Cliff reached for a warming hug. He passed them without a glance. His clothes were still covered in ice when he fell before Grand Pabbie, his shoulders shaking in sobs.

"Take it away. Take them away."

"Kristoff, you know—"

"I know you can do it. I've seen you do it before." Remembering caused his heart to clench. He had been so sure they could save her.

"Love doesn't work that way, son. I'm sorry." Pabbie's hand smoothed Kristoff's hair. "We can't remove pain, not even with memory."

"I don't care. I don't want to see her face or hear her voice." The words cracked in his throat. "Take them away. I'm begging you."

Bulda and Pabbie exchanged glances. Her nod was all he needed. He pulled images of Anna from Kristoff's mind, changing and twisting and cutting until no sign of her remained. Kristoff's shoulders quit heaving, his breath evened. He sat up puzzled, but did not ask. Sven grunted and whined, pulling his shirt and butting his head. Kristoff couldn't understand him.

Kristoff went to work the next day. The storm died, leaving ice on the lakes rough and crusted with fresh snow. His mind was numb, his chest frozen in apathy. He couldn't shake the feeling he'd lost something. Sven pulled the blade behind him, cutting the first line. The way the reindeer cut it irritated him. Everything was normal when he checked, so he grabbed his ice saw. He worked furiously slice by slice. Anger leaked into the motion. Up, down, up, down. Pressure knotted his back. His teeth ground together. Updownupdownupdown. He cut faster, sloppy. Nothing he cut was suitable to sell. Finally, he thrust down the saw and stared in horror at the job he did. Tears fell, rage berating his thoughts. A scream clawed up his throat, battling until it broke free.

Kristoff hated the ice. He didn't even know why.


	2. Chill

Chill

Kristoff missed weeks of work. Every time he showed up with his ice saw a fury possessed him, his pick clanging uselessly against the block in a blind rage. The other harvesters pitying glances did not help. They pretended to hide their murmuring. The more he heard them mumbling about princesses and isles the more his skin crawled. When a young messenger from the palace approached him during his trip to town, it was all he could do to hold in a growl of frustration. Sven nudged him reassuringly, calming his frayed nerves.

"Kristoff Bjorgman, sir?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Your presence is required at the palace, sir." The lad stood away from him, warily watching him from narrowed eyes.

When he entered the ornate palace, he was faced with a ghost. She fidgeted, her hands clasped together as she looked at him hopefully. Something about the woman in front of him sent cold slithering in his veins. A pain shot from the back of his head.

"I owe you a sled."

Fear flashed through him. Wolves, fire, a cliff. Sven's grunts as he pulled away from certain death. He had almost forgotten about that. How did she know about his sled?  
"No, you don't." Her crestfallen face sent a chill up his spine.


	3. Shiver

Shiver

Kristoff closed his eyes again. Red hair, blue eyes. The princess took over his thoughts. _I owe you a sled…_

A weight fell from his shoulders the moment he met her. In its place was a void, air whirring through him in the dead cold of winter. He woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of splitting ice, a woman's sobs roaring against the black. Always, red hair, blue eyes, a soft touch. The whisper in the wind of his name from familiar lips.

He mentioned the Princess's offer one night to the trolls, trying to make it sound off hand. Grand Pabbie pursed his lips. The looks he and Bulda exchanged had Kristoff squirming in his seat. Even Sven seemed to be keeping something from him. The next day he fled to the ice alone, dragging his supplies behind him. For the first time in weeks he cut out perfect blocks of ice. Still, her face pressed insistently on the edge of his consciousness.

He made his way home, tired and sweaty and sore. She sat with the trolls, laughing.


	4. Cool

Cool

"Kristoff!" Blue sparkled at him. _Speed, fire, a howl in the night_. Pain. His name called, but it was wrong.

"Princess Anna." He felt awkward. He should bow or something. Why was she here? Was he allowed to ask? Her confidence faltered in his formality.

"I brought Sven some carrots. I think you hurt his feelings, leaving him here all alone." Her smile slipped from her face. "Did I do something wrong? I thought…" Mittens pushed hair away from her face. _My sister will fix it_. Assurance fading.

"I don't understand." His head pounded. Sven grunted and snorted beside him. "Have you been following me?" She gulped at his sharp tone.

"When Elsa said… She told me you ran away after I… I died. She said you cried. I thought you… We thought you…" The words were stuck in her head. He felt his heart clinch. _The clang of steal against ice. A thin crack spreading, crumbling. Pieces, too many pieces._

"Who are you?" His voice was breathless, even to his own ears. He forgot propriety, forgot he stood among a family of trolls.

"I'm Anna. Don't you—" She pivoted, staring down Grand Pabbie. "Doesn't he remember?"

"I'm sorry, Princess. He was so distraught. We didn't know." Grand Pabbie's face looked strange.

"Wait, what?" The words fell from his lips. _Hanging from a mountain, soft moss, glowing stones. Snow like crystals hanging in the trees. _Pain pounded in his temples. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Does anyone want to explain?"


	5. Blue

Blue

"Elsa fixed me." She jerked up long sleeves, thin scars disappearing under the light fabric. Slivers of pink shined against pale freckles. "You saw me die, but I didn't. I'm here."

"I didn't." He closed his eyes. _The crackle of ice. Powder and pieces, too many pieces. A cry in the still air. _"Why would it matter? I'm just an ice harvester." Her gaze softened.

"And I'm just Anna."

The trolls parted for her march to him. Thin fingers tugged gloves. The smell of summer storms tickled his nose. He was rooted in place, unmoving. Soft, smooth, caressing his cheek. Her touch was cold. _Sven galloping. A weight in his arms. Cold as ice. Too cold. Fear. Hurry, hurry. _He flinched, pulled away. Too painful. Too much.

"Can you give them back to him? Please?" Her voice carried over the rolling children, crystals lighting as murmurs swept across the valley. Kristoff was tired of murmuring and mumbling. He had never been one to handle it.

"I cannot. To give back memory once taken is impossible."

"But I… But he…" She floundered again. _What am I going to do? Your ice business…_

"I'm standing right here, remember?" She looked to him, and for a second she was all blue. _NO!_


	6. Frost

Frost

The trolls rolled away, their boulder bodies disappearing. He knew his face was glowing red. The more images that ran over his mind, the more his head pounded. _I understand if you don't want to help me, anymore. Cold. Heart racing. Fire. _They were fleeting, no name or face to the sounds. _Crashing ships. Pounding hooves. Kristoff… _

"I don't remember any of this. I'm sorry." Her eyes were misting over. He didn't want her to cry. "I mean, there's something. I just can't place any of it. It's like…"

"A dream." Sniffles were punctuated occasionally by a shaky breath. "I used to dream that I got kissed by a troll." Her hands went up to a white streak running through her hair. Something white crept up her fingers.

"What's that?" He reached hesitantly for her fingers before she pulled them away.

"It's… Frost. Sometimes I still freeze. Elsa hasn't quite figured out how to control her powers. She had to reconstruct me entirely, so I mean, I guess I'm lucky a little frost is all I have to deal with." Her face paled, her hands shaking as she tucked them back into her cloak. She was right. She's just Anna. And Anna's scared.

"It must be difficult to relive that moment." Wooly, thick fabric tugged the cap from his ears. He handed the sweater over to her, twisting the cap in his hand. _Keep her warm. Too cold. _"I'm sure the cold doesn't help." She blushed, but pulled the sweater on. Melted ice slid from her fingertips.

"How far did that frost go?"

"It always starts at the heart."


	7. Warm

Warm

Anna visited often. She was there when he came home. Her patient smiles regularly made his heart pitter. Her ringing laugh took his breath away. The gaping void he was accustomed to filled. Every consecutive day his terrors receded. The trolls adored her, Sven cherished her. Kristoff wanted her.

He tried to deny the flurry of warmth when she was near. The winter wind failed to cut through his sweaters. The snow could not freeze his skin. His eyes trailed after her when she left. His footsteps followed hers on his way to town. She became just Anna. After all, he was just Kristoff.

Then, she didn't come by for a few days. Sven worried. The trolls grew quiet. Kristoff left to find her.


	8. Late

Late

He remembered the trail, now. She always took the most complicated twist through the mountain to find his home. Over the fjord, through the trees, around the north mountain. He should show her an easier way. He would, as soon as he found her.

She wasn't in town. He had expected her to be at the market, laughing with the bakers and fishermen. No matter how many he visited, they hadn't seen her. Their confused stares and scoffing mouths were not enough to dissuade his search. She hadn't been back. He had to know the reason. He had to know she was ok.

Her last few visits played over in his head. Frost slid over her fingers, cold trembled under her cloak. _Keep her warm. Too cold. Why didn't he keep her warm? _He flipped his hair from his face, his cap wringing in his hands. He stood before the castle doors, asking to speak to Princess Anna.

She's not available. Queen Elsa is racing down the steps. _He hears her scream. Ice is flung through the room. Anna stumbles in his arms._ Fear pushes him back for only a moment. But the Queen looks so worried.

"You're late, Kristoff. She needs you!"


	9. Melt

Melt

He rushed to her room. Fire blazed, giving the bundle of blankets a luminescent lining. A frosted hand rested limply on pale blue knit. The buzz of silence swept through the room. He could barely hear Elsa order the guards from the room. His breath caught in his throat.

"_Kristoff," whispered through the fjord. Snow and ice and pain. Too much pain. Too many pieces._

"Anna." Her fingers were so small, so fragile in his. She wasn't moving. _To solid ice will you freeze… _Her lashes were dusted with white, resting on pale cheeks. Even her freckles faded. Swirling, circling, climbing frost wound up her neck, a noose of winter. _True love's kiss perhaps?_

He heard the whisper from his dreams, his nightmares. Purpled lips stumbled over the syllables. A dam broke. _She can fix this… I'm going to talk to my sister… Some kind of crazy trust fall… Kristoff. _

"Oh, God. Anna." Tears fell unabashed. Warmth flooded his heart, pulsed from his blood. He pulled her face to his, felt her lips push like ice against his. Desperate, frantic, hurried. He battled against her cold, pouring his heat into her. Her hands clutched his hair, his arms wrapped around her back. His shirt was wet, the blankets around her soaked. They melted into each other.


	10. Alive

Alive

He remembered, most of the time. Even when he didn't, he loved her. Anna was always Anna, and Kristoff could never help loving her.

They pulled away that day with fear pounding through their veins, their clothes and blankets soaked in melted frost. Laughter echoed from the room, drawing Elsa in. The three of them cried and chattered until the nerves subsided. There and then, Kristoff knew he would never be the same. Anna glowed with heat and fire; she never froze again.

For a long time he did not know what to tell her when she asked why he didn't remember. Memory ebbed and flowed like the tide, but he always remembered her death. How could he explain? _I don't want to see her face or hear her voice._ The words were pain, the thoughts broken and hollow. She couldn't understand. Everything about Anna was love, unconditional and strong. His moment of weakness stood out like a stark stain against her.

"Hey, Kristoff, what's going on in the blonde head of yours?" She poked him on the forehead. He always searched for a trace of chill in her touch.

He stared at her blue eyes. She stared back. Strength for strength, they matched each other.

"I was so afraid, when I lost you. I begged them to make me forget you. I couldn't bear the thought of having you in my head, always, but never having you," He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head against her heart. "Never having you here."

"Kristoff, the trolls told me everything. We thought you would never remember, but I was determined to be with you anyway. So they told me." His shoulder tensed under her arms. "I needed to understand. And I do." Her fingers pulled through his hair. Her heartbeat thumped beneath his ear. She was alive.

Author's note:  
Alright guys, I know all the chapters have been really short. There's a reason for that. I'm practicing writing query letters. In a query letter, you have to make the text short, yet interesting. You have to make the reader want to know more with a teaser. Then you finish the story.


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